This, Again?
by piperholmes
Summary: Kneeling in front of her, Tom placed his warm hands on her stretched skin. Dark lines had begun to form along the curve and her belly button poked out, and with any other person in the world she would have felt rather insecure, but not with Tom. Not when he stared at her with such awe. A 3X02 one-shot.


**This, Again?**

**By: piperhomles**

**A/N: So I've set a goal for myself to write an episode one-shot for each episode this series, and to write it before the next episode airs. This one was a bit difficult since there was absolutely NO BRANSONS in last week's episode, so you're stuck with my silly imaginings. Two warnings: this is a whole lot of fluff and as expected this is unbeta'd.**

**Please let me add that I am so grateful for all the support in this fandom. I know I've fallen behind in responding to reviews, but I am slowly working my way through to everyone. I am really overwhelmed by it and cannot communicate how thankful I am. I'm not so elitist or self assured as to write "just for me" but rather I try to write what I hope people enjoy reading. So please, enjoy! ^_^**

* * *

It started with her toes.

Tom could seem them poking out from the blanket, and he was struck anew with how adorable they were. She would complain that they weren't feminine because they weren't dainty, a point her granny seemed to have driven home most of her life. This, of course, Tom found ridiculous. Her feet were rather small compared to his, and her little, perfectly groomed toes always brought a smile to his face.

It was late, much later than he had hoped, but he was finally home for the night. Sybil had apparently also believed he would be home earlier if the set plates and untouched food on the table were any indication.

He frowned, pained to have disappointed her. The fact she was fast asleep curled up in the chair, well as curled up as a person could be at this stage of pregnancy, only added to his guilt. Knowing she had fallen asleep waiting for him left him conflicted; he was warmed by her love and devotion, but saddened by the reminder that he didn't spend as much time with his young wife as he hoped he could. But food had to come from somewhere and that meant work. Their time at Downton hadn't helped matters; the week away had cost him a bit of income…among other things.

Physically shaking his head, trying to dispel the morose thoughts, he reached out and lightly ran a finger along her cheek. As he expected, she shifted at his touch, stirring slowly until her brow knitted and her blue eyes opened to his. A sleepy smile spread across her face. Normally she would have jumped up to him, but Sybil did very little jumping these days. Instead she lazily reached out for him and he promptly offered his hand, pulling her to her feet. He couldn't believe the changes in her body. She was so…round.

Once he was sure she was steady, he reached down to retrieve the blanket that had fallen to the floor.

"It's very late," she croaked, her voice raw from disuse.

"Aye," he acknowledged, folding the blanket, "Got caught up at a rally that got a bit out of hand."

He didn't elaborate and she didn't ask. For two vocal and well spoken people, their relationship didn't require a great deal of wasted words. Almost as if the years they spent at Downton, while not in any type of easily defined relationship, helped them develop their own language since so much of what needed to be said had to be said in secret. Even with the freedom of their marriage they still fell back into the easy and familiar form of communication.

She simply blinked at him, her head bopping slightly, before she finally decided to let it fall against his shoulder.

"Did you eat?" he asked into her hair, torn between the necessity of putting her to bed and his desire to spend time with her.

"I nibbled," she mumbled against his chest, "I sat down to wait for you but seemed to have fallen asleep."

They stood together for a moment in silence when suddenly Sybil flew back.

"Good heavens, I'm suddenly starving," she declared, now wide awake and pushing away from him, heading to the table.

Tom couldn't help the bark of laughter. His refined, elegant wife had taken a whole new approach to food the last several months.

"Don't laugh," she warned, the smile belaying her chastisement.

"I'm sorry, my love," Tom offered, the cheek in his voice underlining his own sincerity, "I just find your robust appetite quite entertaining."

Sybil turned to him, her face stern, one eyebrow raised. "Well…stop it," she commanded, her hand stroking her well extended stomach.

Tom sealed his lips together to keep his smile at bay. He knew the vulnerability and uncertainty she felt as her normally slim frame grew exponentially in size. He wasn't so romantic as to claim he loved every aspect of her pregnancy. Truthfully there were several side effects that left much to be desired, but he could honestly say seeing her swell with his child only served to fuel his love for her.

She'd turned back to the table, and Tom took the opportunity to saddle up behind her, stopping her as he wrapped his arms around her tense body. "Hush now," he breathed into her ear, then louder and firmly stated, "There's nothing wrong with a husband being pleased at seeing his wife and child growing healthy."

He didn't have to mention the early months of her pregnancy when it seemed she could keep nothing in her belly. He had worried as she had lost weight, her complexion growing grey as day after day she subsided on water and slices of dry bread.

She relaxed against him a bit, and his hands moved to where their child rested.

"In fact," he continued, "I find it quite—Sybil…did your stomach just…bounce?" He asked, his thought completely redirected by the movement under his hand.

It was Sybil's turn to laugh, pressing her hand against his. Tom gasped as he felt it again, then again. He had felt the baby move before, reveled in how powerful the connection between him and his child had become when he could feel the movements, but this was a new sensation, it seemed rhythmic.

"I believe the baby has the hiccups," Sybil informed him, delight evident in her voice.

Tom moved around to face her, though his eyes stayed glued to her belly. "What? That can happen?"

Sybil's smile grew. "Yes, my love, quite often in fact. I've felt it several times before. I guess the baby is growing big enough now for you to feel it as well."

Tom's gaze moved to hers, a silent appeal.

Sybil nodded.

He didn't hesitate to shove her dress up over her bump, but even the thin shift wasn't close enough for him and soon that too was gathered together and Sybil held the garments up, not the least bit embarrassed to have her knickers on display.

Kneeling in front of her, Tom placed his warm hands on her stretched skin. Dark lines had begun to form along the curve and her belly button poked out, and with any other person in the world she would have felt rather insecure, but not with Tom. Not when he stared at her with such awe.

She responded to the impulse to stroke his cheek, and he smiled up at her.

"It…it doesn't hurt the baby, does it?" he asked her, suddenly growing serious.

She frowned slightly, and shook her head. "I don't think so."

"It doesn't hurt you?" he pressed.

Again she shook her head, this time a secret smile gracing her lips. "No. I quite enjoy it actually."

Tom's concerned expression gave way to his laughter. "Look at how it makes your belly jump."

Their laughter filled the small flat.

"Tom," Sybil ventured hesitantly after a few moments, "I really am quite hungry."

As if to reiterate her point, a rather loud rumbling noise emitted from her stomach.

"Of course," he agreed, placing a kiss against her skin, then jumping up.

She allowed her dress to fall back into place as Tom led her to the table, sitting her down.

He grabbed the pot of stew—a Branson family staple it seemed since it was relatively inexpensive to make and Sybil usually managed not to burn it—from where it had been left warming, while she sliced the bread that sat on the table.

"I had a letter today from Edith," Sybil announced, once they had begun their meal.

Tom chewed his food, looking at her expectantly.

"You don't think our last visit to Downton was too terribly awful, do you?" she petitioned carefully.

He slowly swallowed his bite, weary of her question, before answering, "Sure, if you call being constantly criticized, belittled, drugged by your ex-lover—"

"He was never my lover," Sybil pointed out with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

Tom ignored her. "Forced into a morning suit—"

"I thought you looked quite dapper," Sybil again interrupted, perfectly content to let him play out his slights.

"Referred to as a "grubby little chauffeur", and overall feeling rather unwelcomed as not being to terribly awful," he finished.

Paying no heed to his facetiousness, she grinned. "Good, because Edith writes she getting married next month and I mean for us to attend."

Tom stared at her wide-eyed.

She stared back.

"This is because of my "robust appetite" comment, isn't it?" he asked.

She merely smiled sweetly at him.

"Right," he sighed, resigning.

The end

* * *

**I warned you it was fluffy! Thanks for reading, and again, for all the continued support. Here's hoping this week's episode provids plenty of inspiration!**


End file.
